In Anticipation
by Original Max A
Summary: Murphy's musings and adventures between Side Jobs and Ghost Story. The first story takes place immediately before Aftermath. The second story comes after Aftermath.
1. Small Rewards

Something to hold you over until Side Jobs comes out in October and Ghost Story comes out next year. Set during "Changes" as Murphy is driving to pick up Harry at the marina. Hope you enjoy. And for those of you wondering, yes I'm still working on "Insights" and my countless other unfinished fics.

-Original Max A

My father once told me, "Sometimes the only reward for giving your all and doing the right thing is being able to look at yourself in the mirror the next day."

I knew I was going to lose my badge when I agreed to help Harry save his daughter, Maggie. I knew there were going to be consequences when I went to help save Molly. Had I not gone, no one would have blamed me, but that's not how Colin Murphy's daughter does things. I don't ignore people who need my help. That's why when I was assigned to Special Investigations, I took the job by the horns. Even though the cases were strange and seemed unsolvable, that fact was Chicago residents were being hurt and killed. Just like I would go after a murder or a rapist, my job was still to protect the people of this city from danger, even if it was supernatural. The boys will have to carry on the fight without me. They can do it. I trained up a good team. They'll be okay.

Me? I'm just trying not to think as I drive back to the marina, toward Harry Dresden as opposed to running away. I briefly considered wearing a dress or skirt or something bordering on feminine. Harry liked seeing me like that. It threw him off, but he liked it. In the end, I decided on form-fitting jeans, a nice blouse and slightly more makeup than usual. Just enough to say that I was serious about… whatever we were going to do, but not enough to look like I was trying to cover myself up. I was done with that. I was done with hiding from this thing Harry and I have built over the past decade. He's hurting so much right now, I don't think I could deny him anything. I know that makes me sound like a bodice-wearing heroine in a Harlequinn romance novel, but it's the truth. Every time I think about him carrying Maggie down the steps of that pyramid and how much love and heartbreak was in his eyes, it makes me want to cry right with him.

Harry's a good man. He shouldn't have had to separate himself from the daughter he just met and yet loved with everything he had. If I could have, I would have taken some, if not all, of his pain from him. I've loved Harry for a long time. I've told him so. But I didn't know how much I loved him until that moment. It wasn't just infatuation, lust or even romance. Right then, I would have willingly given my life to lessen his pain. I would have done anything to create a world where he and his daughter could live together, to stop him from sacrificing Susan or to go back and make it so she was never turned, anything so that he wouldn't have to experience this heart-wrenching mix of love and despair.

The only thing I can do, now that everything's settled and Maggie is squared away, is to finally let him love me. Harry needs something to anchor him. He lost his home, his business, every physical thing that makes him who he is and he lost some of his heart and soul too. If I don't grab him now, I could lost him forever and what's worse, if he doesn't grab something, he could lose himself.

There are no more excuses, no more denials. We've wanted each other for a long time, but now I need him just as much as he needs me. As I get out of my car and walk toward the marina, all I can think is that this is right thing to do. I'm finally ready to give Harry my all, and tomorrow, maybe, we'll be able to look at one another and know that both of us are going to be okay.


	2. Induction

I went to Mac's bar the afternoon after Will and I saved Georgia. I wasn't ready to go home and even though everything in that place reminded me of Harry, Mac's beer was worth the trip... as well as the relative safety of people that knew who and what Harry actually was and would know better than to approach me. When I walked in some people and non-people gave me a looks of sympathy, others gratitude, but most looked at me with the type of reverence usually reserved widows and children of fallen warriors. I didn't deserve it. I nodded to one or two people that I recognized, but mostly I ignored them and went to the bar. Mac had his special dark brew waiting for me. He had given it to me once before when I stared down a hulking Billy Goat Gruff (the story's got it all wrong) and stopped the goat from beating Harry to a bloody pulp in the middle of the bar.

Mac's bar was neutral territory and as such, it's the safest place in Chicago for those on the supernatural side of things to relax. I suppose I qualify by proxy. Sipping my beer slowly, I looked around at the bar. Everyone has gone back to their own business or were consciously _not _looking at me as my gaze swept over them. These were the people that Harry had left me to protect… and I couldn't do it on my own. My career as an officer of the Chicago Police Department was finished, but I realized, looking at these people, that my days of protecting the city of Chicago were far from over.

"Murphy," stated a warm baritone voice. I turned around to see Mac looking at me intently. I was shocked and realized I had never actually heard his voice before. He jerked his head for me to follow him. I did with my beer in one hand and my other was stretching just in case I have to go for my gun. It wasn't that I didn't trust Mac, but when you hang out with Harry, paranoia becomes a survival skill. Mac opened a small door that blended into the wall, meant to be invisible. Behind the door was a little room with a table and a few chairs.

I looked at Mac with a raised eyebrow. He closed the door.

"If you ever need it," he said.

He nodded to me and then returned to his place behind the bar.

I closed my eyes and took a cleansing breath. I went back to the bar, tipped my bottle toward Mac in thanks and downed my beer.

Most of the time when you get a new job or enter a phase in your life, there's a ceremony, congratulatory phone call or a contract to sign that made it official. This was subtler and a lot more significant than that. Mac literally gave me my own place within the supernatural community. There was no turning back. I had officially started the process of filling Harry's size 16's… Hell's bells.


	3. The Powers That Be

People do funny things when they think you're grieving. Sometimes they do your laundry, cook for you, stay around for days if you have kids or even if you don't, all the while never realizing that the well wishes and condolence cards are really not for the grieving. They're to relive the guilt of living for still being alive. I've learned to forgive the empty promises and the "I'll be there for you"s from those who didn't know anything better to say a long time ago. It didn't make it any less annoying than it was when I was eleven, just slightly more manageable.

I saw the Carpenters at Sunday Mass. I started going regularly after I got involved with Special Investigations. I couldn't face all the weirdness and possible evil without strengthening my faith in the light. My father used to say, "My faith was best served serving my fellow man," when my mom pestered him to go to church. It's funny things you remember about people once they're gone. I sat with the family and comforted Molly as best I could. Without being overt, Father Forthill requested a moment of silence for those given their lives for the protection of others and in the name of God. Then smiled and elaborated, looking at us in the pews, "Or to put it more simply, people who died doing the right thing." Amen. The Carpenters offered me a home cooked meal after Mass, but I had a meeting at Mac's that I couldn't be late for. I said my goodbyes and went to my favorite hole-in-the-wall.

Mac greeted me with his usual grunt and I took a table in the corner. I've been coming here a lot lately. People and non-people were still unsure what to make of me. Was I a wizard or fae who just hid it really well? Was I really just a kick-ass cop? Maybe I was just Harry's girlfriend?

I was happy to let them wonder. Harry and I never hid our relationship, not that anyone could define it. Hell, even we couldn't. He loved me. I loved him. And what came out of it was a few stolen kisses and a friendship that survived demons, monsters and exes. A friendship that somehow seemed to make me his successor.

It took an amusing game of telephone for me to finally get the Captain of the Wardens to meet with me. Molly waited until Carlos was out of wizard jail to contact him and he had to wait until Luccio got out of whatever hole they had locked him in at Edinburgh to contact her. All in all, it took about two weeks after Harry's shooting that the meeting took place.

Luccio and I have crossed paths before and I respected her, mostly because Harry did. I watched him grow up a little while under her command and while they were in a relationship. Anastacia Luccio was very pretty, as the women in Harry's company tend to be. The woman in Harry's company often share a few common traits; they're beautiful, powerful and can either mentally or physically kick his ass. Usually both.

Luccio was one of the few people in the White Council that he trusted and that made me relatively confident that she would answer my questions as best she could.

I slid a beer over to her as a form of greeting. She nodded and took a swig in silence. I gestured to the seat beside me.

"Thank you for coming," I stated.

"Least I could do," she replied, "Picking up where Harry left off is no easy feat. You are to be commended."

Again with that old English. I don't think I'll ever get used to it, still I let out a small laugh.

"And here I was expecting a cease and desist order."

"Normally, that would be the case and only if the council was feeling especially generous," she stated calmly, "Technically, you and your band of allies are vigilantes."

Her matter-of-fact tone told me that this wasn't a threat, at least not yet.

"And what's the White council's policy on that?" I asked, sipping my beer.

She nodded her head at me and slightly lifted her hands off the table in a placative gesture.

"It's complicated… and in your case, unique. You're a known associate of the White Council's black sheep. You're one of the few vanilla mortals who knows just enough to be dangerous. There was a time when that knowledge alone would have warranted a death sentence."

"And now?"

"Officially? We don't condone the interference of mortals in our affairs."

"Unofficially?"

"Better you than us. We're strained and in recovery. If someone kills you and yours, that's one less danger to White Council. If you kill someone, that's one threat that we didn't have to take care of."

I nodded, "So I'm on my own."

I looked up at her, "Where do you stand in all of this?"

She took a swig of her beer and closed her eyes on contemplation. A slow smile eased on to her lips.

"Harry was important to me," she said finally and looked up at me, "I'll do whatever I can to bring his killer to justice."

"Thank you," I said in response, ignoring the urge to remind her that they hadn't found a body yet. I still refuse to talk about Harry in past tense.

"I appreciate the risk you're taking," I continued.

Luccio laughed, "That's what life with Harry is all about, no? You risk life and limb to support his causes because in his own insane way, he'd do the same for you."

I joined in her laughter, "And blow up a building in the process."

She clinked her bottle with mine in agreement.

"You're not alone, you know," she said after a moment, "Harry's may be gone, but his allies live on."

I took a short breath, "As do his enemies."

We finished our drinks in silence.


End file.
